Escapade (Or, My Fucked-Up Weekend With Kairi Kerrigan)
by Script Savage
Summary: Most guys would kill to spend a weekend with the world-famous, hot-as-hell musician named Kairi Kerrigan. I'm definitely not complaining about the opportunity, but it's a little different when you're forced into it, especially when you discover that she's not nearly as innocent as the media would have you believe.
1. Spontaneous Show-Business

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

**Okay guys and gals, this is another one of those ideas that comes out of nowhere and you just _have_ to write it down. This fic will be pretty short, probably only about three or four chapters, but I hope you all enjoy it anyway. Without further ado, I give you: _Escapade (Or, My Fucked-Up Weekend With Kairi Kerrigan)_**

**It's a Roxiri, something I've always enjoyed reading, but never had the gumption to try and write myself until now. Hopefully it turns out alright...**

**Here goes nothing...**

_**Chapter I: Spontaneous Show-Business**_

_**Roxas**_

__The only reason I know who Kairi Kerrigan is is because of my ex-girlfriend, Naminé. I mean, I'm sure I would've discovered her eventually—she's in the news more often than any ridiculously famous celebrity you care to name—but Naminé was the one who really got me into her. Naminé is obsessed with the girl—and evidently, so is the rest of the world, because, apparently, Kairi's newest album _Jigsaw_ has sold more copies in a _month_ than the annual sales for One Direction and Justin Bieber _combined_.

For some reason, people assume that the term 'ex' means that we parted on bad terms, but we didn't. We're still great friends.

We've known each other since diapers, and we've been best friends since nursery school.

Personally, I think that's what did us in—we knew each other too well. Things started out just fine, but after a while, it became apparent that our love was more a brother/sister kind of thing than a romantic attraction.

I mean, don't get me wrong or anything, I'd give my life for her in a heartbeat if it came down to it, but I'm sure as hell not going to be fathering her children.

We're just too close to be _that_ close.

Sora, Naminé's new boyfriend—and my brother, incidentally—is also a fan of Kairi's music, but he isn't a superfan like Naminé is.

I don't really care for it to be honest—I've never been into the pristine Disney-Channel-Wannabe pop stars; Kairi doesn't quite go that far, but she's close enough that I can only listen to her for a few minutes before she becomes irritating.

I mean really: what the hell's happening to music these days?

Everything on the radio is cookie-cutter pop shit.

Speaking of which...

Kairi's currently in the middle of a feud/dispute/pissing contest with her manager, the details of which are hush-hush, but hopefully that means she'll be changing things up a little.

I have to give her credit though—when it comes to playing guitar, she _kills_.

Sora's good for Naminé—she's is an incredibly introverted girl, and my tendency to be a loner certainly didn't help her come out of her shell. Sora is the complete opposite of her, always talking to people and if he isn't hosting a party, he's going to one, and I think Naminé's become a little happier now that she's getting out more.

Because of Sora's extroversion, I'm not the least bit surprised when he comes into my room, despite the blatantly obvious _Do Not Disturb_ sign I've posted on my door.

I work in a metal-working shop, and my boss, Xemnas, is a real prick—today he was in a particularly shitty mood, so I don't really feel like being around Sora's happy-go-lucky attitude at the moment.

Sora, however, can always be counted upon to _completely_ disregard my need for personal space, and he enters anyway, his dark hair as unruly as ever with a massive grin on his face. And, as if the invasion of my privacy wasn't enough, he proceeds to further irritate me by dropping a ticket stub on my desk.

"What the fuck is this?" I snarl. _Get out of my room, Sora._

"Dude, Kairi's playing the Sandlot tonight, and I just scored front-row tickets!"

I don't bother to mention to him that the Sandlot is standing-room only; Twilight Town's mayor is an old-hat, and a persnickety, fat bastard with no interest in the arts.

The only reason that the Sandlot exists is because the townspeople were fed-up with not having a place to express themselves creatively, and they wrote a letter to Congress, who then proceeded to tell the mayor to quit being a dick or they were going to step in and find someone else to govern the town.

Needless to say, Mayor Cid was pretty pissed about that, so he stuck a pole building in the middle of a field, built a stage inside, set up some lights and sound equipment and called it a day.

I don't think he expected it to become the town's go-to place for entertainment.

We've had some pretty sick bands grace the stage: _Green Day, The Cab, Motion City Soundtrack, _and _Good Charlotte,_ just to name a few.

However, Sora and Naminé both complained for weeks when Kairi's tour schedule came out and Twilight Town wasn't on the list of stops.

So where the hell did these tickets come from?

"I thought you said Kairi wasn't stopping in Twilight Town for her tour..."

Before Sora can answer, Naminé practically bounces into the room, all blonde hair, bright blue eyes and ecstatic squealing.

"It wasn't on the schedule, but I think this might be kind of a 'screw you' to her manager. Maybe she's trying to carve out her niche in the world, or something. Either way, I'm not complaining..." Sora adds.

Wow. When did Sora become so philosophical?

"Isn't it awesome?" Naminé grins, jumping up and down with glee. That girl has _way _too much energy.

"Sure." I say. "Whatever you say, kiddo." she_ hates _it when I call her that.

True to form, Naminé scowls at this and kicks me in the shin. "Stop it."

I smile then—she's just too easy to mess with. "What time are we leaving?"

Sora shrugs and checks his watch, a massive nerdy-looking contraption. "I'd like to get out of here as quickly as possible so we can get in as soon as the doors open."

"We can stop for food on the way." Naminé interjects.

I sigh. _There goes my nice, relaxing evening at home. _"Okay, just gimme a few minutes to get ready."

_***.*.*.*.*.**_

I never planned on wearing the fleece-lined black bomber jacket from last years Christmas—I'm more of a hoodie kind of guy—but I'm glad I have it now.

My ensemble is considerably less colorful than Sora or Naminé's, with their graffiti'd concert tees from their previous shows—my black jeans and canvas sneakers are strictly comfortable, and my gray button-up is only being brought because it looks nice with the rest of the outfit.

The Sandlot is packed; if the amount of people crushing up against me is any indication, every teenybopper from here to Radiant Garden has heard about this concert and decided that there's nowhere else in the world they'd rather be than right here, spreading their apple-cinnamon perfume all over the place like fucking tear-gas at a riot.

My eyes are watering at the overpowering scent, and the longer these emo/hipster/scene kids keep pulling and pushing at me for a better view of the stage, the more tempting it becomes to tell them all to fuck off.

Sora's insistence at getting here when the doors open has paid off—I hope—because we're right up against the security railing that keeps crazed fans from jumping onto the stage.

The opening band, _Organization XIII_, I think is their name, steps onstage to a burst of polite applause as the house lights go down.

The redheaded guy on lead guitar opens with a riff that sends everyone who has a clue about the music scene into a frenzy—the opening tabs to _Sweet Child o' Mine._

_ This might not be such a wasted night after all_, I think, and I almost believe it, until the guy leans into the mike and says:

"My name's Axel, and we're Organization XIII. Got it memorized?"

Is this guy serious? He wants us to remember his band before we've decided whether it's good or not?

They launch into a cover of _Green Day's __American Idiot_, and they only succeed in making me realize how good the original is.

The crowd at large seems to appreciate the effort, judging by the halfhearted attempt at head-bob-thrash-dancing. The mass-media slaves give a lurching smatter of applause in response, while I resist the urge to shove my hands in my pockets and groan.

Sora turns to me and smiles apologetically. _Sorry for the sucky opening band,_ he mouths.

_No big deal._ I respond

A half hour later, after a few more pathetic attempts at music.

Axel—a.k.a. The Tool—motions for quiet, and then looks disappointed at the length of time it takes for people to settle down enough for him to talk.

"Ladies, and Gentlemen...please give it up for Miss Kairi Kerrigan!"

The roar of the crowd is deafening.

The house lights go down, and it's pitch black, until the stage lights flare to life.

The crowd reacts in opposite ways simultaneously—they cheer and scream and yell, waving and flailing like they're all hopped up on meth; but they also give a short, surprised gasp, presumably because of Kairi's outfit.

She's wearing a yellow crop-top, low slung cargo capris, and a flat-rimmed hat. It's certainly a change from the overly-modest clothing her producers usually push to cater to her younger fans. The only thing that hasn't changed is the guitar strapped over her shoulder.

It's different, but I'm certainly not complaining about her showing more skin. Kairi clearly hits the gym; she's all flat stomach and lean muscle.

Kairi doesn't waste any time with an introduction, not that she needs one, she just takes the guitar and starts slashing it with the pick and rips into a fast, punky cover of Boston's _More than a Feeling._

The pulse of the kick drum reverberates through the floor, and shadows my heartbeat as Kairi slays the chords.

The crowd is a living thing, flailing and thrashing and swaying to the beat, fist pumping like it's going out of style—the older half, is at least.

Kairi's voice has this wicked, sultry rasp to it, I discover as the set blasts on, shredding through the classics like nobody's business, and she also does a decent job of replicating the heavy metal death growl.

She really is a talented musician when she's not bowing to the corporate yuppies who are killing music with all this pop/punk and pop/rock shit.

Kairi launches into a cover of The Fray's _Cable Car_, heavy on the guitar.

That's when I _really_ start to notice the way she's moving, twisting and thrashing in the blinding strobe of the stage lights, all sinuous motion and dripping sex appeal.

Her violet eyes burn with an inner fire, so viscerally alive, so undoubtedly ravenous in their quest for connection that I can't help but be drawn in.

And then, as she hammers the chords, backlit by the harsh lights, she looks at me, and _winks_.

In that moment, I realize: _I've found the girl of my dreams_.

I understand what she's doing, that this surprise concert is less of a publicity stunt and more of a statement.

She's done catering to the masses, producing run-of-the-mill music to appease her manager.

She's a rebel now.

And that's pretty damn sexy.

Too bad she's famous.

Kairi keeps eye contact with me for a moment and gives me this sultry little smirk that reads '_come hither_'—probably playing to the crowd, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy it.

And then as if the outfit and music overhaul wasn't impressive enough, she lays down her axe and goes for the mic instead.

And then, the beat for Tyga's _Rack City_ drops, and I wonder just what the fuck is going on, until Kairi leans into the mic and starts spitting some verse.

The die-hard Kairi Kerrigan fans in the crowd seem to be appalled at the vulgarity of her lyrics, but the older portion of the crowd doesn't seem to mind—Kairi can bust a rhyme with the best of them. The number is short and to the point, and Kairi thanks us for coming out before disappearing backstage.

Naminé's leaning into Sora now, her grin rivaling his. "So, what did you think?" She's yelling over the cheers of the crowd, but it's still hard to hear her over the ringing in my ears.

I shrug. "It was...interesting."

Before I can say anything else, the crowd parts like the Red Sea, and a burly guy who I assume is part of Kairi's security team comes up to us and lays a meaty paw on my shoulder.

"Excuse me sir," he booms. "Miss Kerrigan would like to speak with you in private."

**So...Thoughts anyone? Worth continuing? Let me know!**

**Look sharp,**

**~Script**


	2. Snatch and Grab

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

**As always, thanks to everyone who has reviewed/favorited this story, it's nice to see that people are enjoying this!**

**Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained so it seems. I'm glad that this has been so well received, it got much more attention then I was expecting! Like I said before, this is my first attempt at a Roxiri fic, so any of you die-hard Roxiri fans out there—don't be afraid to let me know if it's not up to snuff.**

** Shire Folk: Nice catch bro, that was definitely a nod to your series. Keep up the great work!**

**On with the show!**

_**Chapter II: Snatch and Grab**_

_**Roxas**_

"Huh?" I respond, like a dumbass, because I can't imagine what the hell Kairi Kerrigan could possibly want with me.

The mountain of muscle and bone towering over Sora, Naminé, and I is unreadable behind his completely-unnecessary sunglasses. After a long, somewhat intimidating pause, he grunts.

"Miss Kerrigan would like to see you. Privately." The man says again, speaking up to be heard over the noise of the other fans.

My mind is doing all _kinds_ of dirty things with that sentence.

I start to follow him, but Naminé grabs my arm. "How will you get home?"

"I'll take the bus, or something. I've got money." I tell her.

Sora nods, not seeming overly concerned at all, but Naminé bites her lip.

"Okay...Are you sure you'll be alright?" Naminé's trying to stare me down, but it doesn't quite work—she's too innocent-looking for that.

I nod. "You worry too much, kiddo. I'll be fine."

I can tell by the glint in her eyes that she'd kick me in the shin if this place wasn't so crowded; she settles on a mildly intimidating glare and folds her arms. "Fine."

A massive yawn ambushes her at the end of her statement, and she leans into Sora with a sleepy grin on her face. "Are you ready to go, sweetheart? I'm bushed."

Sora kisses the top of her head and smiles apologetically. "Sure, babe." he bumps my outstretched fist. "See you at home, bro."

Naminé gives me the eye again. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" I can tell by her impish grin that she's only half joking.

I grin back. "I make no promises."

Naminé sticks her tongue out at me and then leans against Sora.

Before I can retaliate in an equally immature manner, the two of them disappear into the crowd.

The huge security guard motions to me as the two of them melt into the crowd. "This way."

I follow him into a side door and down a long and winding corridor. The steely-gray concrete blocks that flank us on both sides make it clear that we're in the Sandlot's underbelly, and the whole thing makes me feel like I should have a burlap sack over my head.

We stop at a nondescript door; the pegs for the letters of the performing artist's name are empty. Sora wasn't kidding about this being a spur-of-the-moment thing.

The burly man knocks hard on the door. "Miss, your visitor is here to see you."

Kairi's voice filters through the door, somewhat muffled. "Just a sec." It's not the smooth, controlled tone I'm used to hearing on the radio; it's actually sort of raspy, but that's probably just from singing.

In that moment, I wish I would have at least brought flowers or something

The door swings open, and the dual pungency of cigarette smoke and booze slam into me like a punch to the face.

Kairi stubs her cigarette out in the nearby ashtray before taking off her hat and tossing it across the room. She finger combs her hair before speaking. "Come on in. Thanks for bringing him, Seifer, you can go home for the night if you want." Kairi moves out of the way so I can enter the room.

"Have a good night." Seifer replies, before heading off.

Kairi shuts the door and crosses the room to pull on a dark hoodie.

There's a strange sense of finality that sets in as the door clicks shut; it's almost like some

kind of social limbo where I'm alone in a room with _Kairi _fucking _Kerrigan_' and I have no idea what to say to her.

Most guys would_ kill_ to have this kind of opportunity.

But, instead of talking to her, chit-chatting like a normal person, I look around the room while I try to think of something clever to say.

The place is a pretty standard green room; it's got a beat-up couch, a fridge, and a tiny bathroom.

"You're skeptical of me." Kairi says as she pushes her arms through the sleeves. There's no question in her voice.

_She really was watching me..._

"You don't like my music?" Kairi wonders reaching into the fridge for a cold bottle of whatever complimentary alcohol this place provides.

She mutters something under her breath and comes up with a glass bottle of Coke.

It takes me a moment to realize that she's asking me a question. And then I feel like an idiot for having to play catch-up. "No, no. I think you're very talented."

Kairi seems irritated by my response, her thin, supple lips press together in a firm line. Her blue-violet eyes blaze and she folds her arms over her chest. "That's not what I asked." she cracks the bottle of Coke open with a sharp hiss and takes a swig.

_Feisty this one..._ "I don't particularly care for the style, if that's what you mean." I answer honestly, hoping I haven't offender her.

To the contrary, instead of being offended, Kairi actually seems thrilled. She flashes her perfectly-white teeth in a genuine grin. "_Finally!_ Somebody who actually gives a shit about the music scene these days. Every time I turn on the radio, it's this wannabe pop shit."

"You took the words right out of my mouth..." I say, not quite able to believe that we're so in-sync as far as musical viewpoints go.

Just then, Kairi's phone rings, interrupting our groove.

She glances at the caller ID. "Shit...I have to take this. Do you mind? I'll just be a second."

I shake my head. "No problem." I still can't believe I'm actually having a conversation with Kairi fucking Kerrigan, let alone the fact that we seem to be on the same page as far as music goes.

"What the fuck do you want?" Kairi snarls into the phone. "I already told you 'you're fired'!"

She's silent for a beat, and then resumes yelling.

"You know what? Fuck you! We're done!" She hangs up the phone and blows some hair out of her face. "Sorry about that. That was my ex-manager, Riku. Greedy bastard."

"It's cool." I shove my hands into my pockets, for lack of anything better to do with them.

Kairi sinks down onto the couch, grinding the heels of her hands into her eyes. "I'm tired of appeasing the masses because it makes my manager rich. I want to find my own sound, do my own thing. I want to be recognized for my actual musical talent."

She's looking at me again, her deep blue eyes pensive, her lips cocked in a thoughtful frown, like she's trying to read me and she isn't sure how she feels about what she sees.

She stands up and rolls her shoulders, and gives me this little mischievous smile, and I get this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"That's not a bad idea..." I respond carefully.

Kairi knocks back another third of the Coke bottle and gives me a full-on smile.

Before I have time to really prepare myself for whatever-it-is that she's planning, she lunges across the room and grabs me by the arm, all but dragging me toward the door.

"What the hell are you doing?" I wonder. I mean, I'm not _complaining _about being hauled off to God-know-where with Kairi, but a little info would be nice.

Kairi smirks. "Uh, I'm kidnapping you. You don't mind, right?"

_What? _"You don't even know me!"

"Dammit, you're right." Kairi releases my arm and backs up a few steps. She extends a slender hand for me to shake. "Kairi Kerrigan."

"Roxas Donovan. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," Kairi doesn't miss a beat, and she seizes my arm again and drags me out the door, stuffing her car keys into her pocket. "Now let's _go_."

Even though I'm absolutely positive that this is the dumbest thing I've ever done; but what guy _wouldn't_ say 'yes' to an impromptu road trip with the hottest girl on the planet?

Kairi's car is a low-profile thing, a powder blue Geo Metro, and she wastes no time firing up the engine.

The thing sounds like a go-kart that's trying a little to hard to read: _The Fast and the Furious, _instead of: _Three-cylinder engine_, but I don't tell her that.

Instead, I settle into the passenger seat, fastening my seatbelt as she peels out of the parking lot. The tires want to squeal, but the engine only has enough power to make them chirp.

"So where are we going?" I ask

Kairi's eye flash with a vibrant inner fire that's pure life. "Radiant Garden. The place has the most epic music scene on the east coast."

"Sounds awesome."

As the Sandlot collapses onto the horizon, I realize the magnitude of what I've done.

My parents are going to _kill_ me.

And I can't bring myself to care.

"Radiant Garden's pretty far away though." I say, praying that she doesn't hear my ferociously growling stomach.

"Want to grab some food?" she asks.

"Sure."

"I know just the place." Kairi grins. And then, she cranks up the radio, rolls down the windows, and tears down the highway like a bat out of hell.

_*****ESC*****_

The Chili's parking lot is deserted.

I zip up my jacket as I step out into the biting cold October night. My breath steams in the air in front of me, and I jam my hands into my pockets to try and ward off the chill seeping into my bones.

Kairi shoots me a grin over the top of the car as she stuffs the keys in her pocket.

"I don't know about you, but I could go for an order of Texas Cheese Fries right now."

Wow.

Kairi Kerrigan has official become numero uno on my 'Top Ten Coolest-Girls-I've-Ever-Met' list.

Just to recap:

She can sing.

She can rap.

She's ten times sexier than any supermodel or celebrity I can think of.

_And_ she orders cheese fries instead of a garden salad at resturants.

"Sounds good to me."

Kairi hugs my arm, and we stroll into the restraunt.

The place looks like a hole-in-the-wall-the floor is littered with discarded peanut shells; and the dim lighting only adds to the mood.

The hostess gives us this 'Wha-a-cute-couple' kind of look, and leads us to a secluded booth in the back of the restraunt.

She leaves us with a couple menus and and some time to kill when she goes to get our drinks.

No sooner has she left, then Kairi pulls a penknife out of her jacket pocket, and carves: _Roxas and Kairi were here. Cheese fries ftw!_

Our names quickly become lost in the mess of names, dates, love confessions and epithets etched into wooden the table top.

"My dad told me when I was a kid that 'it doesn't matter what people think of you at any given moment; people don't really give a shit unless you make an impression.'" Kairi says' tucking the knife away in her pocket.

Her mouth turns down at the corners, like she's recalling something particularly painful.

I nod. "He sounds like a pretty smart guy. Is that part of the reason that you're cutting this Riku guy loose?"

Kairi nods. "Yeah. My dad died a couple years back...Even though I do alright recording for Riku's label, it's not me. People are going to forget about me if I don't stand out from the other artists. This is what my dad woud want." she confesses.

"My condolences." I say, out of reflex. I smile at her, trying to lighten the mood. "You're doing a damn fine job of it, if I do say so myself."

Kairi flashes me her perfectly white teeth. "Thanks,"

The waitress brings us our drinks, setting the condensation-covered glasses onto the table.

"What can I get for you two this evening?"

Kairi grins again. "A fucking massive order of Texas Cheese Fries." she laughs then, and I realize that despite the fact that I have no fucking clue how this night is going to end' I'm having the time of my life.

**So...thoughts? I know I'm beginning to sound like a broken record, but this is my first Roxiri, so any feedback is much appreciated.**

**Also, check out Shire Folk's _Annals of Darkness _series if you get a chance guys, it's great stuff!**

**See you next chapter!**

**~Script**


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